


The Porcelain God

by BastardSonOfDay (Diana_Raven)



Series: Bingo Prompts [5]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Gen, Vomiting, him and feyre being sad together, i have a hc that lucien gets triggered by mor, mentions of Ianthe, so this is... about that, this is kinda short but yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 17:13:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14337219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diana_Raven/pseuds/BastardSonOfDay
Summary: Lucien was having a good life, besides all of the shitty things that had ever happened to him.





	The Porcelain God

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Nausea

Lucien was having a good life, besides for all of the shitty stuff that had ever happened to him.

Lucien gardened with Elain, teaching her some tricks he learned from Spring. Lucien had tea with Nesta and even managed to get on her good side (for the time being). Lucien sparred and trained with Azriel and Cassian. Lucien and Mor traded beauty tips and talked strategies about the Courts. Lucien spent a good amount of time not trying to get on Amren’s nerves, and when she was up to be nice to him Lucien and Amren discussed everything from literature to policy. Lucien and Feyre spent time hanging out, whether she braided his hair or he modeled for her. Lucien even spent time with Rhysand, generally on work but not always.

But mostly, he spent time curled around his porcelain god and in the depths of the night he puked his guts out.

When he walked back to his room, still queasy but empty of any food to hurl, he was surprised to see Feyre sitting on his bed.

“What are you doing here?” Lucien asked, self-consciously wiping at his mouth.

“We’re not idiots, Lucien. Rhysand knew and _I_ was across the country. You think we don’t know in our own _home_?”

Lucien frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking abou-”

“Lucien, don’t fuck with me.”

Lucien shut his mouth.

“Please talk to me. Just-just tell me what’s going on, Lucien.” Feyre begged. “Please, Lucien. You’re not alone.”

Lucien sat down next to Feyre.

“So, are you done for tonight, or do you think you still have some heaves left in you?” Feyre asked.

“I have nothing left in my stomach, but forgive me if I feel a sudden urge to excuse myself.” Lucien responded.

“So? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“Really, it’s-it’s nothing that anyone can control. It’s not like your nightmares but, sometimes… I can smell her perfume. And it doesn’t help when… It’s not her fault. But, when she brushes by me or when she paints her nails or when she-”

“ _Mor_ is your trigger?” Feyre seemed surprised.

“Well, mostly it’s just her. You were triggered by the color red. For me it’s… blonde haired women who are strong in their sexuality and… very touchy-feely people.”

“Is it mainly the touching? Because we can-”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Okay. But Mor doesn’t want to hurt you-None of us do.”

“Excuse me.” Lucien said, and he took back off to his porcelain god. As he heaved he squeezed his fingers around the bowl. As he stopped to catch his breath, he felt hands in his hair and jumped back.

“Sorry, I should have asked.”

“It’s-” He took another deep breath, “It’s not you. I was just surprised is all.”

“Can I hug you?” Feyre asked hesitantly.

Lucien felt like he was going to cry. He hated the nausea that quirked in his stomach at night. Only ever when the lights went out and he couldn’t see anything and he closed his eyes could he feel her on his thighs and smell her on his breath. Then he would rush to the bathroom, with a sudden urge to empty his insides.

Lucien nodded and Feyre took Lucien into her arms until his next rush to the toilet.

Feyre held back Lucien’s hair, rubbing his back gently.

“I’m sorry about this.”

“It’s okay. I’m just glad I can be here for you.” Feyre whispered.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

“That-that wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes, it was. I didn’t comfort you-I didn’t do anything-”

“Tamlin would have killed you. Quite literally.”

“No, he wouldn’t have.”

Feyre didn’t feel like arguing about this.

“Thank you for being here.” Lucien whispered. He closed his eyes as he felt another rush rising in his throat. Feyre’s gentle hands soothed him. Feyre reminded Lucien of his mother, whenever he was sick she would do the same thing. She would never hold back his hair though, that was all Feyre. He heaved once more into the toilet.

Lucien leaned back, deciding to rest his forehead on the cold wall, letting the temperature leech into his body.

“Anytime.” Feyre promised.


End file.
